*Chapter Thirteen*

"Leave off, y' smarmy bastard, or I'll gut y'!"

"What in God's name was that?"

Halting in the process of packing her meager belongings, Sheridan glancedover her shoulder at Nicholas, who gaped at a covered object on the floor.When his gaze slid her way, he wore a bewildered expression.

"Have I lost my mind, or did something under that sheet just call me asmarmy bastard?"

Sheridan was greatly tempted to let him find out on his own what lay beneath the worn cotton. It would serve him right. His defection still stung,his withdrawal tangible and bittersweet. Yet she refused to let her hurt show.

Coming to stand next to him, Sheridan bent over and pulled the cover off."Nicholas Sinclair, meet Scally. Say hello, Scally."

Scally slanted a tiny black eyeball at Nicholas and said in his usualcordial fashion, "Suck on rat poison."

Nicholas's eyebrows inched toward his hairline. "Scally's ... a myna bird?"

"Aye, that he is. What did ye think Scally was?"

"I'm not sure, but I know what I didn't expect, and this bird is it."

"Cough bricks, y' brainless Bedouin."

Nicholas sank to his haunches and shook his head. "This is really too much.What's next, I wonder?"

Scally regaled them with a four-letter serenade that would have burned theears of society's most jaded.

"I've never heard a bird speak so ... colorfully," Nicholas remarked,amusement tingeing his voice.

Sheridan hesitated, then knelt beside him. She picked up a small crust ofbread lying on the floor outside the cage and fed it to Scally through thewire bars. "Scally is short for scalawag."

"Apropos."

"Aye. Scally belonged to a salty old sea captain who died during the ship'scrossing. The man's brother hated the bird and bet him away in a card game.'Twas the only time Uncle Finny won a hand of cards. He's smart, though--thebird, that is--and has quite a vocabulary and learns very quickly."

"Hmm. Interesting. May I?" Nicholas held out his hand for a small piece ofbread. Uncomfortable with his nearness, Sheridan plunked the bread in his handand stood up, wondering if she should warn him.

"Damn it!"

Too late. "Tch, I forgot to mention that Scally doesn't like strangers andhas a penchant for biting."

Nicholas swiveled his head and gazed up at her, his look clearly asking herwhy she hadn't told him before he stuck his finger into Scally's cage.

He rose slowly, purposefully. And when at last he stood at his fulltowering height, she had to tip her head back to return his intense regard. Noman intimidated Sheridan Delaney. No matter how much she quivered inside atthat moment, he'd never know.

"I think you did that on purpose," he said.

"Did what?"

"Don't play innocent with me."

"I don't know what ye're talking about."

He gritted his teeth. "That bird could have taken off my finger."

She waved a dismissive hand. "And wouldn't ye have had four left?"

"That isn't funny," he said, as if his expression didn't convey clearlyenough he was not amused.

She shrugged. "I don't know. I thought--"

His growl cut off the rest of her intended gibe. "You're acting like aspoiled child."

Anger began to bubble inside Sheridan. "Actin' like a child!"

"You're angry because of what happened before."

She didn't need further clarification to know what before meant. And he was right. She was angry--angry enough to pound his bones into mulch.

But she was also sad, disheartened, and in love with the big lout.Nevertheless, she'd take that information to her grave.

She cocked a brow and met his glare. "Oh? And what happened before?"

He leaned forward, giving her a look that proclaimed he was a man andruler, and therefore the world should drop to its knees before him.

And her look reiterated Scally's words: Cough bricks.

"I'd be happy to remind you," he said in a low, rumbling voice, "in detail,if so desired."

Heat coursed over Sheridan, visions of his hands running along her body, building her to fever pitch.

Shucking off the turbulent memory, she folded her arms across her chest andraised an eyebrow. "And what of it?"

"What do you mean, 'what of it?' Don't try to tell me what happened betweenthe two of us didn't mean anything to you. And don't," he emphasized, "tell meyou didn't want me."

It meant everything to her. And she did want him, even at that moment.Probably forever. "It didn't. And I don't."

"Liar."

She narrowed her eyes on his handsome, arrogant face and itched to slap it.

His expression gentled, a look of regret in his eyes. "I didn't mean tohurt you, Danny, but it's better this way. A relationship between the two ofus wouldn't work."

Emotions threatened to choke Sheridan. She turned away. "Ye're actin' as ifI care. I don't."

He moved in front of her. "But I do."

She vowed not to speak to him, but her mouth opened anyway andvulnerability spilled out. "Is it because ... I'm Irish?"

"No." He cupped her cheek, soothing her when she didn't want to be soothed."You should know better than to think I'd care about that." He tilted her chin up. "Does it bother you that I'm English?"

For her mother's sake, Sheridan wanted to say yes. For her family who hadstruggled, fought, and lost to British tyranny, she wanted to say yes. Forevery Irish woman who had watched a son or daughter die from starvation, shewanted to say yes. For every kindred soul of Erin who had slaved and sweatedand given their very life to the land, she wanted to say yes.

But for Sheridan Delaney, it would be a lie.

"Nay. It never has. If ye were a hated landlord, then I'd have issue withye."

"I don't own any property in Ireland." But even as he said the words, anelusive memory tickled the back of Nicholas's mind. He quickly dismissed it,knowing his brain had not been reliable of late. "It must have been adifficult thing for you to leave your home."

" 'Twas the worst thing ever. Even though life was hard, everyone wasfamily, and ye were always welcome no matter where ye went. Tis a part of me Ican't let go-"

"And you shouldn't. Your heritage is what makes you who you are."

"Aye. 'Tis just that I wish I could do somethin' to help. The landlordscare nothing about the people who work the land, wearin' them down to thebone, the ache in their backs constant from tryin' to till lifeless soil. Wewere driven out of Erin like the children of Israel." She sighed. "My heartstill aches with homesickness. Ireland 'tis a rare and special place." Sheglanced at the floor and murmured, "I thought to raise my children there, butnow ..."

Her children.

Nicholas remembered her words to Jules. Sheridan wanted a family of herown. He couldn't help but wonder what kind of man would capture her heart, andwhy it bothered him so much to think of her with someone else.

But if he knew only one thing conclusively in that moment, it was thatSheridan would be a wonderful mother--caring, attentive, loving. A mother anychild would be blessed to have. The kind of mother Nicholas wished he had been blessed with.

"Do you think you'll ever go back?" he asked.

"Not unless the bounty is taken off my family's head." She shrugged. "Andprobably not even then. We have no money to return, and our home was seized bythe landlord anyway. So what's left for us?"

Nicholas felt for her plight, imagining the fear and uncertainty of livinga rootless existence.

"You can start over again. It's not everyone who can do that." Certainly hecouldn't. In many ways, his life was set in stone. Even at that moment he felt like a rock rolling along to its destiny, unable to go back ... but suddenlynot wanting to go forward either, at least not in the direction he'd sorecently chosen. If only he'd met Sheridan before.

Before what? Before Jessica? Would that have made a difference? Sheridan would still have come from an opposite world. Funny thing was, that oppositeworld wasn't keeping them apart He was.

Nicholas acknowledged the truth, but could do nothing to change it. And heowed his mother for that. If only he could erase the memory of the pain herfaithlessness had caused their family, the children taunting Nicholas abouther, his rage at seeing his father humiliated.

If only.

"Start over?" Sheridan scoffed. "Doing what? And where? If ye haven'tnoticed, we Irish aren't exactly wanted." She moved away from him and staredout a grimy windowpane, wiping away some of the dirt.

She looked so small and defenseless that Nicholas's heart ached for her. He wanted to do something for her, but what? What would make a difference? Andwhy would he be doing it?

To assuage his guilty conscience for hurting her.

Regardless of what she said, he knew he had hurt her. He had treated her nobetter than a dockside tramp. But his need to touch her had overwhelmed him.He still wanted to touch her, and had fought a battle within himself theentire ride to the hotel--and did so even now.

He told himself to get her belongings and get out fast. Yet she lookeddefeated standing by the window, and he knew a need to comfort her. She wouldresist, perhaps even fight him. This was not a girl who bowed to weakness. Headmired that about her. She had a strength many men didn't possess.

He stepped up behind her. She flinched, but did not acknowledge him. "Itwill be all right, Danny. I'll do whatever I can to help."

She swung around, her back pressed against the window. "I don't wantanything from ye! Ye hear? I'll not be yer charity case." She shoved her handsagainst his chest. He didn't budge. "And I'll not have ye thinkin' ye owesomethin' to the poor little Irish girl who threw herself at ye! I wantnothing from ye! Nothing!"

She pushed at him again. He grabbed her wrists. "Stop it, Danny!"

"Leave me alone! I hate ye!"

"No, you don't."

"I do!"

Nicholas pressed closer to her, trying to still her squirming. "I'm sorry."

"I don't want yer apologies! Just go away and leave me alone! Just"--hervoice broke--"go away." She bowed her head.

A knife twisted in Nicholas's heart.

Two souls entwined.

One soul damned.

He leaned down. He wanted to see her face but she averted her gaze. "I'mnot going away, Danny. You're Jules's friend. And now you're mine."

Nicholas wasn't sure what he was offering. How could he possibly ever bejust Sheridan's friend? But he knew he had to be something to her. He had to.

"I don't want to be yer friend," she said, refusing to look at him.

Hearing the choked sound of her voice, Nicholas released her wrists and puta finger beneath her chin. She pushed his hand away, but he wouldn't bedeterred.

Finally, she looked up at him. Tears that she tried to blink away welled inher eyes, making them appear a luminous lavender blue--making him wish oncemore things were different.

"Don't shut me out, Danny."

"Why do ye do this to me?"

"Do what?"

She bit her lower lip as if she didn't want any more words to escape. Shetried to look away again. He wouldn't let her.

"Do what, Danny?"

"Make me want ye," she whispered, "when ye don't want me."

"Not want you? Are you crazy?" He crouched down until they were eye to eye."How can you stand here and not feel the desire you build in me? I can't stoptouching you, as much as I tell myself to leave you be."

"But... ye said ..."

"I said a relationship between the two of us wouldn't work, but I neversaid I didn't want you. If I can't give you something of myself, then I don'twant to prolong this for either of us."